


Stephen King has nothing on this.

by Extremelyintroverted



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blood, F/M, Horror, M/F, M/M, long story, m/m - Freeform, no its not completely focused around love, occasional language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-05 00:10:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3097685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Extremelyintroverted/pseuds/Extremelyintroverted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Excuse me." A voice snaps Logan out of his book-organizing reverie. "Do you know where the section for supernatural information is?"</p>
<p>Logan has always believed in the supernatural. Like, ghosts and psychics. Maybe even aliens.</p>
<p>Not this kind of supernatural crap. This is just too much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stephen King has nothing on this.

Chapter 1: Coffee.  


 

Another day of absent mindedly restocking books; taking quick glances at the code taped to the spine of the books and then fitting them into the correct section. Logan doesn't mind being on shelving duty. It's a good way to numb the mind and get through the rest of his shift. But Logan would still prefer to be working the front counter. It's just nicer up there. He's able to help more people that way, rather than having to uncomfortably smile as he moves the hefty and awkward book cart around. But, it's a necessary evil, He supposes. 'Hell, it's better than having to work behind some greasy frier at a fast food joint', he thinks, moving a hand to his upper cheek, touching the area that used to be covered in grease-acne,'I’m surprised my face ever cleared up...'

 

  He finishes the bottom and medium row of the young adult romance section of the library, and begins on the top. It's a lot easier for him, since his height keeps him from having to stretch too high to put the books away.

 

  "Excuse me." A voice snaps Logan out of his book-organizing reverie. Looking to his right, he sees a man looking at him like he has been trying to get his attention for hours. His scowl and dark features looking incredibly out of place from the well-lit area he was currently standing in. "Do you know where the section for supernatural information is?"

 

   "Yes sir, all of those books are in a pretty small corner over on the same shelf as the biographies." Logan states, placing the final book on the shelf and setting the cart at the end of the aisle. "Here I'll show you,is there a specific book that you're looking for?"Logan asks the man.

 

"No."

 

"oh...a specific topic?"

 

"Yes."

 

  Logan lets the conversation end there, since the man was clearly very obdurate about small talk. He leads the man past several bookshelves, all the same size and type of woods, but all varying in amount of books stored inside. The fantasy section is only about halfway full, but Logan still has to stock it using the books on his next cart. The science section gets split into various sub-categories (an idea of Logans own, he might add), and is never really full. This is the library that nearly the entire student population uses. It’s very up to date, with a wonderful computer section and always making sure to own the newest trending literature. 

 

Even it’s atmosphere is up to date. All the lights are energy efficient, and some areas are more dim than others, so people can choose their reading ambiance. Logan always preferred the darker area of the library; keeping less glare on his glasses. Plus it’s usually the most quiet, since everyone there is either napping or planning to take one. 

They pass the  adults only section of the library, and Logan has to stifle a laugh as he sees two preteens scurry out of his view is he looks down the aisle. He never bothers to hunt them down and return the books. He knows that whatever they read here, they could just pirate as an e-book at home. At least this way the library gets a little bit more business. When they finally enter the biography section, Logan leads the man all the way to the back and sighs as he looks at the pitiful collection of occult and supernatural books that the library has procured. There is, at most, 25 books in total, and they are all very old and tattered. Most of them don’t even have the codes or labeling sticker on them.

 

“Well, here you go.” Logan states, guiding an arm over the small section of books.

 

“Is this really all you have?” the man asks, still wearing his scowl.

 

“Yes sir; the library doesn’t have a huge fan base for this particular subject, so they never bothered to expand on it.”

 

“Great. Thanks.” The man sighs out, crouching to look over the books.

 

Logan,used to this kind of behavior from his experience at  Pigs in a blanket,  just shrugs the annoying man off and begins to walk back to his cart,wanting to get his work done on time. As he walks down the aisle, he notices some books that are incredibly out of place.  50 shades of grey,  for example, is wedged haphazardly between an Abraham Lincoln and an Anne Frank Biography. Logan grunts and grabs the book. He glances through the rest of the lines on the shelf, making sure he doesn’t miss any other books. While he’s doing so, he hears the one-word-as-a-sentence man complaining to himself.

 

“Gah, are you kidding me?! An entire library and they don’t have a single book on poltergeists…” the man hissed under his breath. ”Of course, they have this tattered piece of crap book about orbs. A book about psychic children. A book about the friggin yeti; but not a single one about an evil ghost!”

 

As much as Logan enjoys watching adults get upset over trivial matters, he also enjoys being helpful. Which tends to be a more troubling tendency than a good one.

 

“Ugh, excuse me, sir?” Logan asks. The man looks up and glares at Logan, accusing him of interrupting his rant with his eyes. Or just plain accusing him of breathing, Logan isn’t sure.

 

“hm?”

 

“I own quite a few books involving hauntings and poltergeists… I could bring some down tomorrow if you’d like? As a sort of apology on the libraries behalf. Most are in way better condition than these also.”

 

At this statement, the man's brows ease up only just a fraction of an inch, but, since they were nearly overlapping the top of his eyelids, it’s a rather dramatic change. He places the ‘friggin yeti book’ back in place and stands up.

 

“Exactly how many books on the subject do you own?”

 

Logan takes a second to think. ”I guess maybe 8 to 10? Some are barely,like, 60 pages though, so I guess they aren’t technically books. More or less pamphlets.”

 

“I’ll borrow all of them.” 

 

“I actually never said that you could.” Logan corrects him, secretly enjoying the slight look of surprise on the mans face. He must not be used to being told no. “I said I would bring them  in . But  you can’t take them  out. You will have to stay in the library with them.”

 

At this the man's brow goes back down that fraction of an inch. He sighs and rubs his jaw line with his hand. Looking rather defeated, he looks back at Logan and utters an okay, before walking past him and ultimately leaving the library all together.

 

Logan takes a deep breath, feeling annoyed at his lack of receiving a thank you. But he quickly brushes it off before going back to his work. He finishes up all of his stocking and is given another half-full cart of books by the head librarian. Taking a glance at his watch, he see’s that he only has 8 minutes left of his shift, and the cart is full of books of different subjects. Meaning he has to, not only organize and stock them, but bring them all around the library to put them in their correct place. Naturally.

 

Logan finished his final task 14 minutes past his clock-out time, and of course he doesn’t get overtime for it. Overtime definitely doesn’t exist the library. Logan half expects that if he looked that word up the dictionary, and showed it to his boss, she would simply stare at the book before asking Logan why she is looking at a blank space. Either that or she would be physically repulsed by the word. Head doing a 180, green vomit. The works.

 

Logan finally gets home and sits on his couch, kicking his shoes off and letting them fling across the room in opposite directions. He takes a few minutes to relax then gets up performs his after work ritual. When he’s accomplished that he gets started on dinner. Which is, as usual, a huge bowl of mac-n-cheese and a hot pocket. He eats it while watching American Dad on Netflix for the 30th time, occasionally blurting out whatever line he remembers from having previously watched the same episode multiple times before. After that he sits down at his small corner desk in his room and begins inking what he had sketched the previous night. While he usually doesn’t care much for his drawings (calling every single one he’s ever finished a ‘practice sketch’), he actually likes this one very much. It started out as a figure drawing, a quick sketch that developed into something more when inspiration hit him halfway through finishing the woman's torso. Now he has incorporated little nature-related objects into the woman figure. Mushrooms, leaves, flowers, et cetera. He’s not sure what the point of the drawing was, he just thinks it’s pretty to look at. ‘of course,’ he thinks ‘I’ll have to make something up for Mr.Peddler when I turn it in.’ He,technically, might not even be able to turn it in, since the assignment was to do 4 5-minute figure drawings. But Logan had already done 3 so he supposes it doesn’t really matter.

 

At around 7 o’clock at night, he starts getting ready for his only night class. Naturally, his only required class of the entire semester is full, so he has to take the night class. While it’s only from 8 to 9:30, it’s so incredibly tiring. He can only barely pay attention to the teacher, and his notes always end up coming out like some drunken Arab writings. By the time he finally gets back home it’s already 10:40. He double-locks his door and huffs out a sigh. As he trudges his way into his room, he suddenly remembers his promise to the Mr.Attitude-dude that he met at the library. He huffs out an even larger sigh and grabs an old backpack. He goes through his books and hunts down all of the ones relating to the subject. Some are about poltergeists, some are about any and all forms of hauntings, and the remainder vary in topic. He picks up his one of his favorite books, one of the very first copies of the original study on the Amityville horror house, and ponders taking it also. It’s old, nearly half of the book consists of either loose or completely torn out pages, and the front cover is nearly entire torn away from where it connects to the spine. Logan looks at it dearly, then sets it back in place. He would absolutely hate himself if something were to happen to it. ‘I think the collective 2,000 pages from these other books should suffice.’ He thinks to himself. He sets all the books down inside his backpack and places it on the dresser beside his keys. He then heads straight to bed, where he finally is able to lay down and try to relax. It always takes him a few hours after laying down to actually  sleep,  but he’s used to it. He uses this time to browse Tumblr, check Facebook, and see what all is going on in his favorite paranormal messaging board. At last, he can tell he’s tired when he’s finally able to laugh at the vines he see’s his friends sharing.(Something that he can never do awake and alert,for some reason.) He closes his eyes and puts himself in whatever movie he is currently acting out in his head before he goes to sleep. Only to wake up at 7 in the morning and start the whole day over again.

  
  


\-------------------------------------------------------------- **\----------------------------------------------------------**

  
  


        Derek heads home from the library, empty handed. He’s tired and pissed off, but that’s nothing new. Recently that’s all he’s been. He turns of all the lights and lays in bed. He takes a couple deep breaths before turning onto his side and shifting into his other form, using his now even more heightened sense of hearing to listen to the world around him. He can hear the crickets and a frog or two, singing to each other in their own weird way. He can hear a few mice just outside his loft. ‘poor things, they can never find anything to eat inside...’ he thinks, amused. He’s always kept his place spotless. Not even a crumb. He likes it that way. Having order. He thinks about the triskelion, and how cleanliness has to be one part of some new definition he feels he should give it. The other two parts, however, he has no clue. He uses this idea to get him through the next couple hours. Thinking about what he could add to cleanliness to complete the pattern, and listening to the world around him. He hears little scattering bugs, the heartbeat of some squirrels that are climbing up the building, and the shuffling of an armadillo’s stubby legs. Then he hears a small humming. He shudders at it’s familiarity, and focuses his ears onto it. It starts off like the humming to an old television, then turns to the static-like hum of a power line. Then a women's sing-song hum. At this realization he shudders and sits up, now fully alert and angry. But, somewhere deep down, also terrified. Like, a dog hearing the crackle of thunder terrified. Because, he knows, soon the storm is about to begin.

  
  
  


==============================================================

  
  


       Logan wakes up to his alarm playing the same guitar chords he’s heard every day for past 6 months. He lays on his back, tapping his fingers to the beat. He had set his alarm to where it will play one of his favorite songs from start to finish, getting a little bit louder as it goes. He just sits there, soaking up the music, letting it be the sole reason for him getting out bed. When the song ends he hefts his body out bed and quickly grabs his phone. He sets up his special shower-only playlist and hops into the shower. After that he does his usual daily routine,still groggy from lack of sleep, and reaches for his keys. When he grabs them, he noticed the backpack next to them and stares at it; confused. He actually had no idea what it was there for until he opens it up and notices all the books inside. 

 

“Ooh yeah, what’s-his-face needed these for...whatever reason…” He says to himself.

 

    He slings the backpack over his shoulder and heads out for the library. By the time he’s halfway there any and all of his morning grogginess is gone and he’s fully alert. When he finally reaches the library,however, he can see that he is the sole attendee of the  ‘morning hustle club’.  About a dozen of college kids are waiting outside the library entrance. 

All with glazed, tired eyes. He walks past them, offering a small smile and some hello’s, before unlocking and opening the door.Unfortunately, as most of these students have already learned, he can’t let them in until the library itself is awake. The head librarian was already inside,checking the returned books off into the computer and setting them into a cart that Logan will later begrudgingly have to take care of. The lights themselves take a good 10 minutes to get started, because of all the different switches, and then there’s all the behind the counter chores to attend to. As Logan finally finishes up booting up every computer and getting the porn blocker running, he’s already a half hour into work. But, finally, he’s allowed to let the huddled public masses inside. He opens the door and clicks it into place, apologizes to the tired collegiates and watches them shuffle their limp,dead bodies inside. ‘they’re usually never this bad.’ He ponders. Then he remembers it’s Saturday. Saturday is what Logan refers to as “slacker day”, since it’s when all the students who put their work off till the last day rush in and spend all day accomplishing their tasks. Since the local college’s professors usually put their assignment due dates on a Monday, and the library is closed on Sundays;Saturday is the only available day for these kids to get it done. And “it” is usually 20-page in depth report on whatever subject they are majoring in.

 

Logan looks around at all the miserable faces and can’t help but sympathize. That was how he had looked during most of high school, when he was forced to take 8 classes everyday except weekends. All honors. And only a 20 minute lunch break. His heart swelling with pity, he gets an idea. Making sure there was no one at the front desk needing help, he slips into the back room and grabs the coffee maker. He hides it,along with the coffee,sugar, and creamer, inside an empty box and takes it into the main library (making sure to rush past the head librarians office, to avoid her attention). He plugs the coffee maker into an outlet and sets it next to a donation box that’s resting on the front counter. The machine stirs into life, making the familiar suction sound as hot water seethes past the coffee grounds and into the pot. He sets the creamer(both liquid and powder) and the sugar onto the counter next to the coffee maker. Then he rushes into the storage closet and grabs 2 long sleeves of Styrofoam cups. When he gets back to the front desk, there’s already 2 or 3 students by the coffee machine. One is staring at it like it has just descended from the heavens itself. Logan grins a toothy grin at the familiar sight of that stare. It was the same stare he gave his high school librarian when she had set out her coffee maker for the students his junior year. He takes the cups out of their sleeves and sets them by the other essentials. Then,without delay, he quickly steps into the middle of the library. 

 

“Attention students! There is coffee at the front desk for anyone who places a dollar into the donation box! It’s a dollar a cup but you can use however much sugar and creamer you’d like!” Logan announces, cupping his hands around his mouth and deepening his voice just enough to get it to sound throughout the library.

 

“Hell I’ll donate three dollars for a cup!” He hears an unknown voice call out from behind a shelf. He laughs at that, then turn around to see the kids at the front desk viciously attacking their backpacks, looking for their wallets, and laughs even harder.

 

Logan mans the coffee maker for the next 2 hours, making sure the donations are going in and the coffee is getting made. He made a secret deal with the kid that was staring at it this morning that if he slips a fiver into the donations box, he can have much coffee as he’d like. That poor kid made at least 8 cups. Back to back. He then sat down for an hour and made one final cup before the book he was reading was shaking in his hands and he had a dopey caffeinated grin slabbed across his face. He receives a lot of thank you’s and every cup served produced a grateful smile, and leaves a warm feeling in his chest. Although his helpful nature usually backfires on him, it’s times like this that proves to him that it’s worth it.

 

At about 10:30 He’s on the main terminal at the front desk. The library is always dead on a Saturday, besides the students. Of course, there’s always the elderly people that come in, but they are never a bother. They usually just grab a magazine or large font book and sit in a nice bright place and read for a bit. He leaves the coffee maker out, since he’ll be right next to it till about one in the afternoon anyway. Although the liquid creamer is gone, the powdered is nearly full and there’s still enough sugar for maybe another  dozen cups. When a little old lady comes up and asks for a cup, he politely explains to her it would cost a dollar, and she looks a bit disheartened. As Logan looks at her now sullen face, he feels his heart drop to his stomach. He recognizes that look. The look of someone who can’t afford such a simple commodity.

 

“You know what ma’am? How about this: I’ll pay you a dollar to tell me your favorite part of this library.” Logan says, pulling a bill out of his wallet. At this the old woman's face brightens up and the wrinkled corners of her mouth slip upward into a faint smile. The best kind of smile.

 

“Goodness,young man, you don’t need to-” 

 

But Logan had already slipped his dollar into the-now almost full-donation box and went around the counter to walk with the old lady to get a cup for himself as well.

 

“It’s absolutely no problem. Besides, we could always use the feedback!” Logan says, grabbing two cups and handing one to her. She doesn’t say anything as she fixes her cup, her shaky hands grasping the coffee pot and delicately pouring herself a cup halfway full. She adds barely any of the sugar or creamer, even after Logan insists that she can have as much as she’d like. Logan,on the other hand, fills his cup almost halfway full of sugar,  then  pours in the coffee. No creamer,though. He hates that artificial vanilla crap.

 

“Well young man, I suppose right now my favorite part of the library would have to be you.” She says, placing a hand on Logan's arm. 

 

Logan smiles, a smile large enough to crinkle his eyes nearly closed. ”Well, I’ll be sure we keep myself in here for a long time,then!” He chimes.

 

He watches the old woman shuffle back to her chair in the corner of the library, and he turns around and walks back to behind the desk when he spots a person resting against the corner of the desk. It’s the man from yesterday. Clad in a leather jacket and a face of utter impatience and rage.

 

Logan’s smile almost drops completely of his face.


End file.
